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Warrold Iron-Horn
'Warrold Iron-Horn '(Born the 22nd of Last Seed, 4E 177 in Bruma, Cyrodiil) is a Nord born into the ancient Iron-Horn family. He is the firstborn son of Kjagoring Iron-Horn, with one little brother, Benjen. Pre-Birth Kjagoring is the second child of Bjarg Iron-Horn, his sister Sanje being the firstborn. When Sanje died in the Great War, fighting the Dominion, Kjagoring became the one to inherit the title as head of the clan. After the war was over, Kjagoring finally married his promised wife Wenche, and she gave birth to Warrold two years later. They had another son, Benjen, three years later. Childhood Warrold was a rebellious and troublesome kid, but would eventually grow into a strict man. He never lost his wild nature, still enjoying fighting and hunting. He never had a particularly strong relationship with his little brother, as their personalities and interests were vastly different. Warrold was wild and took an interest in combat Benjen was calm and took an interest to reading, mostly about history. As they grew however, Benjen took to joining him in hunting a lot. Warrold didn't meet Valring until he was 18, but their relationship grew quickly. They became each other's rivals, pushing each other to get better. Warrold had strength, Valring had speed. Warrold had archery, Valring had swordsmanship. Pursuit of Valring (4E 202-205) '202:'The news of the last Dragonborn's arrival struck Bruma late. Although few knew him by name, based off descriptions, Warrold immediately figured out who it was. He knew him well enough to understand. His cousin Valring had dissappeared in the Jerall mountains during mercenary work and was presumed dead to his family. After all, he had been gone for 3 seasons, through winter, in the snowy wastes, with no word from him. But he wasn't dead. He could take care of himself, Warrold knew, in the wilderness, in battle, anything. And he had been right. He immediately left his home and his city, bound for Skyrim. He had to illegaly cross the border, as travel had become illegal following the civil war. Warrold knew the war had to end, Valring would have to understand as well. He was hoping Valring had taken up with the Empire already, but that was wishful thinking; Being the dragonborn would have to be busy work by itself. Warrold took a strong mountain horse, packed some supplies, his armor, sword, bow, and a quiver of thirty arrows. He followed the road to a point, before he knew he had to abandon it. The ruins of CLoud Ruler Temple were nearby, a fortress that marked the pinnacle of the Jerall mountains. He rode west, until he arrived at the Ayleid ruin of Rielle. He dared not enter the ruins; That was not his mission, and it would be foolhardy. But the outskirts did provide him some shelter, so he set up camp for the night. He was awakened late at night by an adventurer ascending from the ruins below. Warrold was petrified, but quickly gathered himself. He held his sword at the ready, and the man approached him. A Redguard. He seemed far more scared than Warrold was. He didn't slow down, he ran right past Warrold, pushing him out of the way, before jumping on Warrold's horse. Warrold couldn't catch up, so he made a run for his bow and arrow, taking the Redguard off his horse with little problem, seeing as he galopped in a straight line. Warrold then approached him with a jog, having an arrow knocked on his bow. The Redguard was still alive, Warrold had only gotten him in the shoulder, but the wound, coupled with the fall from a horse in speed, kept him from getting up in time. Warrold could finish him at any moment. The redguard saw him coming towards him, but seemed fixated not on him, but something behind him. The Redguard did nothing but shout, with a desperate voice. "RUN!!!" Warrold didn't trust the Redguard, obviously, he had just tried to steal his horse. But he turned around, and at once saw exactly what the man was refering to. There was no reason not to trust the Redguard anymore, he understood him completely. He couldn't name the creature, but it was not living. It was rotten flesh covered in a red robe, with ancient Ayleid armor covering his shoulders and head. It hissed, a sharp sound that sent shivers down his spine. But he couldn't let fear paralyze him, he saw the staff in the creature's hand. It started glowing after a delicate, slow motion. He drew his bow, with such force he almost failed, loosening it towards the creature's head, before falling on the back to avoid the spell the creature was preparing for him. Warrold was never hit, so he climbed to his feet again, almost slipping while doing it. He took a quick look at the creature again. Although the impact was almost sounless, the creature was recoiling, not dead. Arrows to the head would not kill this thing, and if that was not possible, Warrold had nothing to save himself with. He jumped on his horse, and rode off. In his hurry, he forgot nearly all of his supplies. He rode 'till the sun had risen and then some. The lack of sleep last night took it's toll in the daylight, but Warrold had to keep going, merely going to sleep earlier in the evening. It was a bright day, made no darker by the reflection of the sunlight in the mountain snow. He was unsure wether he was in Skyrim by now or if he was still in Cyrodiil, there was no way to tell. Mountains in every direction, not a single sign of civilization. He was not far in his journey, so him still being in Cyrodiil seemed likely. He immediately started searching for low ground. He had to get out of the mountains now, he had little food or water with him anymore. After a long while, when the sun was past it's height in the sky, and all his clothes were sticky with sweat, he saw an outpost in the distance, he didn't approach it yet, wanting to scour it first, to get a closer look. Because of the clear weather, out of fear of being spotted, he assumed it was guarding the border to Skyrim, and went north. Dusk struck the Jerall mountains before he was over them, and Warrold made a camp at a somewhat sheltered position. He had to be conservative with his provisions, as not only him, but also his horse, had to eat. It was a calm place, and he fell asleep quickly. Nothing would disturb him this night, but he woke up early, discovering something. The skies were no longer clear, it was clouded and snowing, far more chilly than it was yesterday. He didn't wait around, and kept going. It was difficult to keep track of where he was going now, but it was also difficult for people to spot him. After a while he noticed vegetation starting to pop up. Pine trees, bushes, mountain flowers. He was descending. Yet, it took him hours to ride out of the snow, and it was late afternoon by the time it was green. He had never been to Skyrim before, but he would guess this was Falkreath Hold, based on his route. The woods were vast, and he had to look in many directions for a settlement or a cabin or sorts. But this was indeed an excellent place for hunting and harvesting. He had to be careful with what roots, berries and mushrooms to pick, he was no alchemist and this was foreign country. But Deer, Rabbit, and Elk were plentiful. He took down a Deer, made camp, and prepared it for consumption. He decided to continue his search tomorrow. The next day it was raining lightly. It didn't take him too long before he came across a path. He followed it up a hill, where he saw an encampment not far away. He rode up to the camp, and there were people there, but Warrold was not recieved well. They immediately started shooting arrows at him. They were not many, so there was no barrage, Category:Characters Category:Males Category:Nords Category:Warriors